Chapter
20

The name of Louis Joseph Papineau
will be for ever dear to the French Canadians; for whatever may be the political
party to which one belongs in Canada, he cannot deny that it is to the ardent
patriotism, the indomitable energy, and the remarkable eloquence of that great
patriot, that Canada is indebted for the greater part of the political reforms
which promise in a near future to raise the country of my birth to the rank
of a great and free nation.

It is not my intention to speak of the political parties which divided the people
of Canada into two camps in 1833. The long and trying abuses under which our
conquered race was groaning, and which at last brought about the bloody insurrections
of 1837 and 1838, are matters of history, which do not pertain to the plea of
this work. I will speak of Papineau, and the brilliant galaxy of talented young
men by whom he was surrounded and supported, only in connection with their difficulties
with the clergy and the Church of Rome.

Papineau, Lafontaine, Bedard, Cartier and others, though born in the Church
of Rome, were only nominal Romanists. I have been personally acquainted with
every one of them, and I know they were not in the habit of confessing. Several
times I invited them to fulfill that duty, which I considered, then, of the
utmost importance to be saved. They invariably answered me with jests which
distressed me; for I could see that they did not believe in the efficacy of
auricular confession. These men were honest and earnest in their efforts to
raise their countrymen from the humiliating and inferior position which they
occupied compared with the conquering race. They well understood that the first
thing to be done, in order to put the French Canadians on a level with their
British compatriots, was to give good schools to the people; and they bravely
set themselves to show the necessity of having a good system of education, for
the country as well as for the city. But at the very first attempt they found
an insurmountable barrier to their patriotic views in the clergy. The priests
had everywhere the good common sense to understand that their absolute power
over the people was due to its complete ignorance. They felt that that power
would decrease in the same proportion that light and education would spread
among the masses. Hence the almost insurmountable obstacles put by the clergy
before the patriots, to prevent them from reforming the system of education.
The only source of education, then in Canada, with the exception of the colleges
of Quebec, Montreal and Nicolet, consisted in one or two schools in the principal
parishes, entirely under the control of the priests and kept by their most devoted
servants, while the new parishes had none at all. The greater part of these
teachers knew very little more, and required nothing more from their pupils,
than the reading of the A, B, C, and their little catechism. When once admitted
to their first communion the A, B, C, and the little catechism were soon forgotten,
and 95 in 100 of the French Canadian people were not even able to sign their
names! In many parishes, the curate, with his school teacher, the notary, and
half-a-dozen others, were the only persons who could read or write a letter.
Papineau and his patriotic friends understood that the French Canadian people
were doomed to remain an inferior race in their own country, if they were left
in that shameful state of ignorance. They did not conceal their indignation
at the obstacles placed by the clergy to prevent them from amending the system
of education. Several eloquent speeches were made by Papineau, who was their
"Parliament Speaker," in answer to the clergy. The curates, in their
pulpits, as well as by the press, tried to show that Canada had the best possible
system of education that the people were happy that too much education would
bring into Canada the bitter fruits which had grown in France infidelity, revolution,
riots, bloodshed; that the people were too poor to pay the heavy taxes which
would be imposed for the new system of education. In one of his addresses, Papineau
answered this last argument, showing the immense sums of money foolishly given
by those so-called poor people to gild the ceilings of the church (as was the
usage then). He made a calculation of the tithes paid to the priests; of the
costly images and statues of saints, which were to be seen then, around all
the interior of the churches, and he boldly said that the priests would do better
to induce the people to establish good schools, and pay respectable teachers,
than to lavish their money on objects which were of so little benefit.

That address, which was reproduced by the only French paper of Quebec, "Le
Canadien," fell upon the clergy like a hurricane upon a rotten house, shaking
it to its foundation. Everywhere Papineau and his party were denounced as infidels,
more dangerous than Protestants, and plans were immediately laid down to prevent
the people from reading "Le Canadien," the only French paper they
could receive. Not more than half-adozen were receiving it in St. Charles; but
they used to read it to their neighbours, who gathered on Sabbath afternoons
to hear its contents. We at first tried, through the confessional, to persuade
the subscribers to reject it, under the pretext that it was a bad paper; that
it spoke against the priests and would finally destroy our holy religion. But,
to our great dismay, our efforts failed. The curates then had recourse to a
more efficacious way of preserving the faith of their people.

The postmaster of St. Charles was, then, a man whom Mr. Perras had got educated
at his own expense in the seminary of Quebec. His name was Chabot. That man
was a perfect machine in the hands of his benefactor. Mr. Perras forbade him
to deliver any more of the numbers of that journal to the subscribers, when
there would be anything unfavourable to the clergy in its columns. "Give
them to me," said he, "that I may burn them, and when the people come
to get them, give them such evasive answers, that they may believe that it is
the editor's fault, or of some other post-offices, if they have not received
it." From that day, every time there was any censure of the clergy, the
poor paper was consigned to the flames. One evening, when Mr. Perras had, in
my presence, thrown a bundle of these papers into the stove, I told him: "Please
allow me to express to you my surprise at this act. Have we really the right
to deprive the subscribers of that paper of their property! That paper is theirs,
they have paid for it. How can we take upon ourselves to destroy it without
their permission! Besides, you know the old proverb: Les pierres parlent. (Stones
speak.) If it were known by our people that we destroy their papers, would not
the consequences be very serious? Now, Mr. Perrs, you know my sincere respect
for you, and I hope I do not go against that respect by asking you to tell me
by what right or authority you do this? I would not put this question to you,
if you were the only one who does it. But I know several others who do just
the same thing. I will, probably, be obliged, when a curate, to act in the same
manner, and I wish to know on what grounds I shall be justified in acting as
you do."

"Are we not the spiritual fathers of our people?" answered Mr. Perras.

I replied, "Yes sir, we are surely the spiritual fathers of our people."

"Then," rejoined Mr. Perras, "we have in spiritual matters, all
the rights and duties which temporal fathers have, in temporal things, towards
their children. If a father sees a sharp knife in the hands of his beloved but
inexperienced child, and if he has good reason to fear that the dear child may
wound himself, nay, destroy his own life with that knife, is it not his duty,
before God and man, to take it from his hands, and prevent him from touching
it any more?"

"Yes," I answered, "but allow me to draw your attention to a
little difference which I see between the corporal and the spiritual children
of your comparison. In the case you bring forward, of a father who takes away
the knife from the hands of a young and inexperienced child, that knife has,
very probably, been bought by the father. It has been paid for with that father's
money. It is, then, the father's knife. But the papers of your spiritual children,
which you have thrown into your stove, have been paid for by them, and not by
you. They are theirs, then, before the laws of God and man, and they are not
yours."

I saw that my answer had cut the good old priest to the quick, and he became
more nervous than I had ever seen him. "I see that you are young,"
answered he; "you have not yet had time to meditate on the great and broad
principles of our holy church. I confess there is a difference in the rights
of the two children to which I had not paid attention, and which, at first sight,
may seem to diminish the strength of my argument. But I have here an argument
which will satisfy you, I hope. Some weeks ago I wrote to our venerable Bishop
Panet about my intention of burning that miserable and impious paper, `Le Canadien,'
to prevent it from poisoning the minds of our people against us, and he has
approved me, adding the advice, to be very prudent, and to act so secretly that
there would be no danger in being detected. Here is the letter of the holy bishop;
you may read it if you like."

"I thank you," I replied. "I believe that what you say in reference
to that letter is correct. But suppose that our good bishop has made a mistake
in advising you to burn those papers, would you not have some reasons to regret
that burning, should you, sooner or later, detect that mistake?"

"A reason of regretting to follow the advice of my superiors! Never! Never!
I fear, my dear young friend, that you do not sufficiently understand the duties
of an inferior, and the sacred rights of superiors in the College of Nicolet,
that there can be no sin in an inferior who obeys the orders or counsels of
his legitimate superiors?"

"Yes, sir," I answered, "the Rev. Mr. Leprohon has told us that
in the college of Nicolet."

"But," rejoined Mr. Perras, "your last question makes me fear
that you have forgotten what you have learned there. My dear young friend, do
not forget that it was the want of respect to their ecclesiastical superiors
which caused the apostasy of Luther and Calvin, and damned so many millions
of heretics who have followed them. But in order to bring your rebellious mind
under the holy yoke of a perfect submission to your superiors, I will show you,
by our greatest and most approved theologian, that I can burn these papers,
without doing anything wrong before God."

He then went to his library, and brought me a volume of Liguori, from which
he read to me the following Latin words: "Docet Sanchez, ect., parato aliquem
occidere, licite posse suaderi, ut ab eo furetur, vel ut fornicetur." *
With an air of triumph he said, "Do you see now that I am absolutely justifiable
in destroying these pestilential papers. According to those principles of our
holy church, you know well that even a woman is allowed to commit the sin of
adultery with a man who threatens to kill her, or himself, if she rebukes him;
because murder and suicide are greater crimes, and more irremediable than adultery.
So the burning of those papers, though a sin, if done through malice, or without
legitimate reasons, ceases to be a sin; it is a holy action the moment I do
it, to prevent the destruction of our holy religion, and to save immortal souls."

I must confess, to my shame, that the degrading principles of absolute submission
of the inferior to the superiors, which flattens everything to the ground in
the Church of Rome, had so completely wrought their deadly work on me, that
it was my wish to attain to that supreme perfection of the priest of the Church
or Rome, to become like a stick in the hands of my superiors like a corpse in
their presence. But my God was stronger than His unfaithful and blind servant,
and He never allowed me to go down to the bottom of that abyss of folly and
impiety. In spite of myself, I had left in me sufficient manhood to express
my doubts about that awful doctrine of my Church.

"I do not want to revolt against my superiors," I answered, "and
I hope God will prevent me from falling into the abyss where Luther and Calvin
lost themselves. I only respectfully request you to tell me, if you would not
regret the burning of these papers, in case you would know that Bishop Panet
made a mistake in granting you the power of destroying a property which is neither
yours or his a property over which neither of you has any control?"

It was the first time that I was not entirely of the same mind with Mr. Perras.
Till then, I had not been brave, honest, or independent enough to oppose his
views and his ipse dixit, though often tempted to do so. The desire of living
in peace with him; the sincere respect which his many virtues and venerable
age commanded in me; the natural timidity, not to say cowardice, of a young,
inexperienced man, in the presence of a learned and experienced priest, had
kept me, till then, in perfect submission to the views of my aged curate. But
it seemed impossible to yield any longer, and to bow my conscience before principles,
which seemed to me then, as I am sure they are now, subversive of everything
which is good and holy among men. I took the big Bible, which was on the table,
and I opened it at the history of Susanna, and I answered: "My dear Mr.
Perras, God has chosen you to be my teacher, and I have learned many things
since it has been my privilege to be with you. But I have much more to learn,
before I know all that your books and your long experience have taught you.
I hope you will not find fault with me, if I honestly tell you that in spite
of myself, there is a doubt in my mind about this doctrine of our theologians,"
and I said, "is there anything more sublime, in the whole Bible, than that
feeble woman, Susanna, in the hands of those two infamous men? With a diabolical
impudence and malice, they threaten to destroy her, and to take her before a
tribunal which will surely condemn her to the most ignoble death, if she does
not consent to satisfy their criminal desires. She is just in the position alluded
to by Liguori. What will she do? Will she be guided by the principles of our
theologians? Will she consent to become an adulteress in order to prevent those
two men from perjuring themselves, and becoming murderers, by causing her to
be stoned to death, as was required by the law of the Jews? No! She raises her
eyes and her soul towards the God whom she loves and fears more than anything
in the world, and she says, `I am straitened on every side, for if I do this
thing it is death unto me; and if I do it not, I cannot escape your hands. It
is better for me to fall into your hands, and not to do it, than to sin in the
sight of the Lord.' Has not God Almighty Himself shown that He approved of that
heroic resolution of Susanna, to die rather than commit adultery. Does He not
show that He himself planted, in that noble soul, the principle that it is better
to die than break the laws of God, when He brought His prophet Daniel, and gave
him a supernatural wisdom to save the life of Susanna? If that woman had been
guided by the principles of Liguori, which, I confess to you with regret, are
the principles accepted everywhere in our Church (principles which have guided
you in the burning of `Le Canadien'), she would have consented to the desires
of those infamous men. Nay, if she had been interrogated by her husband, or
by the judges on that action, she would have been allowed to swear before God
and men, that she was not guilty of it. Now, my dear Mr. Perras, do you not
find that there is some clashing between the Word of God, as taught in the Holy
Scriptures, and the teachings of our Church, through the theologians?"

Never have I seen such a sudden change in the face and manners of a man, as
I saw in that hour. That Mr. Perras, who had, till then, spoken with so much
kindness and dignity, completely lost his temper. Instead of answering me, he
abruptly rose to his feet, and began to pace the room with a quick step. After
some time he told me: "Mr. Chiniquy, you forget that when you were ordained
a priest, you swore that you would never interpret the Holy Scriptures according
to your own fallible private judgment; you solemnly promised that you would
take them only according to the unanimous consent of the Holy Fathers speaking
to you through your superiors. Has not Liguori been approved by the Popes by
all the bishops of the Church? We have then, here, the true doctrine which must
guide us. But instead of submitting yourself with humility, as it becomes a
young and inexperienced priest, you boldly appeal to the Scriptures, against
the decisions of Popes and bishops against the voice of all your superiors,
speaking to you through Liguori. Where will that boldness end? Ah! I tremble
for you, if you do not speedily change: you are on the high road to heresy!"

These last words had hardly fallen from his lips, when the clock struck 9 p.m.
He abruptly stopped speaking, and said, "This is the hour of prayer."
We knelt and prayed.

I need not say that that night was a sleepless one to me. I wept and prayed
all through its long dark hours. I felt that I had lost, and for ever, the high
position I had in the heart of my old friend, and that I had probably compromised
myself, for ever, in the eyes of my superiors, who were the absolute masters
of my destinies. I condemned myself for that inopportune appeal to the Holy
Scriptures, against the ipse dixit of my superiors. I asked God to destroy in
me, that irresistible tendency, by which I was constantly going to the Word
of God to know the truth, instead of remaining at the feet of my superiors,
with the rest of the clergy, as the only fountain of knowledge and light.